A Short Fanfic In Extremely Bad Taste
by t3h gl4mx0rs
Summary: [Starlight Express fanfic] The product of a demented mind or two. What happens when trains start placing personal ads?


**A Short Fanfic in Extremely Bad Taste**

By AndrogynousGlam // Lenisaren

Inspired by Ali's _lovely alternate lyrics to "He Whistled At Me" _

And... 

Chi's book, Thomas the Tank Engine and the Naughty Diesel

[[Because they're both so much cooler than I am ^_~;;]]

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The whole twisted story started with a little steam engine named Rusty. Rusty was sprawled on the tracks one day, checking the newspaper for personal ads, when one caught his eye.

**There Ain't Another Rig That's Even Half As Big**

Tall, dark & handsome Diesel seeks cute little 

engine for discreet fun. No Nuclear Fissions need apply

 – we all know about you and your "nasty emissions".

Apply Box 21561.

Rusty leafed through the rest of the paper, then flipped back to the personals page. He scanned the ads one more time, humming to himself, _he whistled at me – he looked at my erection – he whistled at me – this could be my connection, then shook his head. Where the hell had that lyric come from? _

He picked up the phone and dialed the number to place a personal ad. 

**Nobody Can Do It Like A Steam Train**

Playful little steam engine seeks other engine. Must be big, 

strong and powerful. (If your name is Poppa, don't bother. 

How many times must I tell you I'm not interested??) 

Apply Box 32487.

*******************************************************************

Greaseball was dreaming. Well, fantasizing, really. After his breakup with Thomas the Tank Engine, he hadn't had any for weeks! Closing his eyes again, he pictured himself and Thomas, and heard Thomas's voice saying, _"Greaseball...you've been a very naughty Diesel. And you know what we do to naughty boys, don't you Greaseball. We punish them."  He moaned softly, then sat up and swung his skates to the ground, pushing his shades on top of his firmly-gelled hair. He wondered if anyone has replied to his ad. Dialing the phone, he listened to the mechanized voice telling him to press 1 for messages. _

Beep.

"Electra here, GB. You know where to find me if you want something a little more mature than sweet teeny-tiny engines."

Greaseball blinked in surprise. Electra was almost getting desperate? Oh well. With Purse being borrowed by a neighboring trainyard till their money truck came back with new circuiting, Elok's usual love slave was out of reach for a few weeks. And Krupp wasn't nearly as cooperative. 

He put down the phone in annoyance. There were plenty of cute little coaches, why couldn't there be some cute little engines too? He scanned the paper for more prospective personals, and attempted to run his fingers coolly through his hair. He couldn't. His hair gel held his hair in a super-glue-like hold. 

"Nobody Can Do It Like A Steam Train", eh? This engine sounded kind of cute. And playful? Nice. Seeking a big, strong, powerful engine? Baby, that's me!

He ripped out the ad and dialed the box number. 

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Rusty waited by the repair shed, on the tracks, where "tall, dark, and handsome" had said he'd meet him. But there was no one there. Except that damn Diesel Greaseball, who'd plotted to make him lose the race last year. His alternate lyrics to "He Whistled at Me" rose unbidden into his head, and he sighed and waited. 

*******************************************************************Greaseball also waited. If the stupid steamer Dusty or Musty or whatever his name was stuck around while he was supposed to be meeting his big date, then, well, there'd be trouble. 

*******************************************************************Rusty looked over at Greaseball again. He was just standing there. Rusty was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this in his stomach...

*******************************************************************

Greaseball growled under his breath. That little steamer had better clear off...He strode over to Rusty to tell him to find somewhere else to hang around. 

"Hey you!"

"Who, me?"

"Yes you! What're you doing here?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Well, wait somewhere else, for Starlight's sake! I'm waiting here."

"Can't. I promised them I'd be at the repair shed."

Greaseball frowned. That sounded suspiciously familiar. 

"Rusty?"

"Yeah?"

"You aren't by any chance waiting for someone you met over personal ad are you?"

"Yup. You aren't _tall, dark, and handsome_, are you?"

"Well, I do possess those traits mentioned, among many other fine qualities..."

"No, I mean in the ad. You aren't, are you?"

Greaseball rolled his eyes. The little engine's perkiness was beginning to get on his nerves. But...there was one area where "perky" was always a good thing...

He sighed and answered, "I am. And you're the _playful little steam engine_?" 

"'Course I am. But wait..."

"What?"

"I thought you were straight!"

"I thought you were straight! What about Pearl?"

Rusty grinned. "What about Dinah?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Well, I'm not."

"I'm not too!"

Rusty scraped his skate against the ground and bit his lip. Finally, he looked up hopefully at Greaseball with innocent, brown, puppy-dog eyes, and asked much too casually, "So...wanna shag then?"

*******************************************************************

They did.

It wasn't a pretty sight. 

*******************************************************************

_The End._


End file.
